Chapter One

Chapter One

I realize now that I must resign myself to leaving my home. As far back as I can recall, I have lived with my family in a small mountain town in northern New Mexico. I have been happy here, as the pace of life is languid and relaxed, exactly what a member of my particular character would appreciate in a suitable homestead. I cannot believe that my family would actually welcome the opportunity to abandon our comfortable life here. I had always assumed that they were as content as myself with our life. We currently live in a moderately sized, ranch-style home that I have always assumed has suited our needs adequately. Now, we are to relocate to a place that I assume is very far away that my family refers to as “Massachusetts”. I enjoy my life here, my days are often consumed with a wide plethora of activities that I find most entertaining. Chasing jackrabbits through the sagebrush, bathing in the warm sunlight, climbing the many aspen trees that surround our home to languish on a branch for hours feeling the cool mountain breeze that moves over me. Yes, I shall miss it all. I shall especially miss the mice. The abundant rodent population that bursts forth from the landscape in every size imaginable. Small, medium, large, as though I were ordering from a take-out menu designed especially for me.

Perhaps I should explain myself, lest you should think I am some demented child with a penchant for mice. I am a feline. Not cat, that word has always offended me, conveying our species, yet not totally encompassing the beauty, charm or intellect of our race. I do believe that the word feline is far more graceful.

I regard myself as a superb specimen of a gray long hair of indeterminate origins. My name? Is Bubbles. An absurd moniker thrust upon me by my sweet simple-minded family the moment that they rescued me from that most disagreeable place called the “pet store”. That heroic rescue is what accounts for my fierce loyalty to my family. My one regret is that I have been unable to show them what life is really all about. Unfortunately they are always too busy to stop and receive their lesson.

I have no children, having been altered at the appropriate age to prevent such situations from arising. As such, I prefer not to be referred to as a specific gender, as I believe this practice is nonsense when one is unable to procreate. I often wonder, however, what it would be like to have a brood of my own. This momentary lapse of reason is often brought about when I have spied one of the parents of the family looking with pride upon one of the children and I see the love and contentment in their face. I sit and daydream about what might have been, thinking at the same moment that it was rude to be rendered such without my permission or opinion. But, alas, it is quite often at this precise moment that one of the children does something that makes me cringe, such as breaking a lamp, or spilling grape juice on the beige carpeting and I am reminded that I am indeed lucky that I have been spared the headaches.

I apologize, for I digress. At the present moment, the family is in the dining room, discussing their plans to move “east”. I have no idea what this means, as I never did take a very keen interest in geography. I have far more important matters that require my immediate attention.

I am often astounded by the number of tasks I must complete for the greater good of the household. I am often needed to lie on the carpet in the family room for a great many hours a day, so as to ensure that it does not roll up and cause an injury. Other instances, I am required to dispose of the family’s table scraps, so as to keep the household waste production to a minimum. Add to that the various other chores that are required of any other household pet, such as lying on beds to ensure that the coverlet does not escape, chasing insects that only we can see to prevent an imaginary insect infestation, and sitting on humans laps so as to anchor them in the proper spot for the few hours of relaxation they allow themselves, and it does begin to seem that the list never ends. I am kept quite busy with the business of protecting my family and their possessions. Why, in point of fact, I’m so accomplished that they are often not aware of the full purpose of my activities. I believe myself to be invaluable to my family, and one of my few complaints is that they do not seem to realize it.

My family, the Hanson’s, are a loveable group. The mother, Julia, is particularly kind. She is delicate boned, with thick dark hair, and in contrast, light blue eyes. Being feline, I am no judge of human beauty, however, I do believe that Julia is a lovely creature. She is quite intelligent, and one of her favorite activities is reading. I often join her, sitting on her lap for hours as she reads the works of Tolstoy, Fitzgerald, Shakespeare, and others and this is what accounts for my rather extensive vocabulary beyond “meow”.

Roger, the father, is friendly enough A strapping human male, dark of hair and eye, he possesses a muscular build that enables him to perform the heavy lifting, so to speak, that his wife often requires of him when she has returned from one of her many shopping forays in town. Roger can have a rather surly disposition, and when he has a bee in his bonnet I have noticed that it often takes Julia a good deal of time to calm him. I am not permitted near Roger until he has had ample opportunity to change from his office attire. I find this most insulting, as I do consider feline hair to be quite the attractive accessory in any right.

The family’s youngest child, Toby, I am fond of, having been acquired shortly after his second birthday. He takes after his father in looks, yet has the overwhelmingly good fortune to have his mother’s eyes. My only complaint where Toby is concerned is that he does have the tendency to handle me a little on the rough side. A rambunctious nine-year-old, he never seems to stay still, and participates in a wide variety of sports as an outlet for his enormous quantities of energy. In point of fact, the only time that Toby stays in one place is when he is watching his favorite sport, soccer, on television. This sport eludes me, as it seems to me that it is nothing more than silly humans, running up and down a field, chasing a ball that is not attached to a string or even filled with cat nip.

The eldest child, Christine, is ninety-eight years old, or fourteen in human years. An accomplished dancer in the form of ballet. In this regard, she is fortunate to take after her mother’s delicate boned framed. A bright, beautiful child who possesses not only good looks, but vast amounts of intelligence for one so young. I thoroughly enjoy lying upon her bed and watching her practice, I do believe that she resembles a feline, and her grace and poise never cease to astound me.

I have deduced the state of my plight from conversation that I have overheard whilst prowling beneath the table during family meal-times, searching for any bit of food that has valiantly escaped the family’s plates, and so therefore must be devoured for the infidel that it is. I resent the fact that this is the manner in which I must gain my information. Though I am quite accomplished in espionage, I wish the family would understand that I would rather gain my information directly. As a being of higher than normal intelligence, I might have been able to offer advice, perhaps a solution or two, anything other than this drastic measure that the family foolishly presumes to be practical. I have come to the realization that humans do not understand that we felines do have a brain in our heads, and therefore, would appreciate being regarded as the extraordinary beings that we are. I do believe that humans presume that that we think of nothing but chasing mice and playing with those absurd things that do a poor job of masquerading as kitty toys. I have come to the rather frightening conclusion that my family means to follow through with this insanity. I will admit here that I always presumed that they were as happy and content as myself here, however, from what I understand, Roger has managed to secure a far more lucrative position that will allow Julia to stay home in pursuit of her dream career as a writer. As she is also with child again, I can see how Roger believes this to be vital. What I cannot comprehend is why they feel we must go so far away to accomplish this.

For the remainder of the week, all is chaos, carefully organized by Julia, of course. Roger refuses to lose control of anything, and he is under the rather erroneous assumption that he is the one who runs our tight little ship. Everything is being run on a tight, non-negotiable schedule, so as to prepare us for our rather expeditious departure. Various chores are attended to at alarming speed, and it seems to me as though everything is whizzing by in one great blur.

Cartons have been obtained, and are filled to bursting with belongings. These are then carefully labeled so as to prevent mix-ups. Piles of old newspapers are used to wrap delicate objects, so as to ensure that they do not break during our exodus across the country. Everyday, another room has been packed and organized, the items either hidden within the confines of a box or shrouded in white sheets, so as to ensure that the surfaces do not become tainted with dust. I hardly recognize my home anymore. I have lived here for the better part of seven years and there is nothing here to connect the chaotic present to my happy and content past.

By the end of the week there is nothing to connect this empty shell with the happy home it once was. Everything save for the bare essentials for living has been wrapped, packed and labeled. I had hoped that in the chaos, I would not have to visit my physician. Unfortunately, my false sense of security was shattered the day of our departure. My physician, a sniveling little snip of a man aptly named Mr. Tweed, is one of the few humans I detest, with his bad teeth, thick glasses and exuding the rather disagreeable aroma of garlic and onions. It does seem to me as though he derives a kind of pleasure at prying open my jaws and examining my mouth and teeth until it is dry and I am left to attempt to gather a suitable degree of moisture. He pokes and prods for what seems like hours, examining portions of my anatomy even I had forgotten that I possessed, if I had even been aware that I possessed them in the first place. The torture and torment continued for an indeterminate amount of time, forever would be an accurate description, until at long last I was pronounced fit for travel. I know that I should have been pleased with this insignificant little parasites stamp of approval, however, I was preoccupied with plotting how to scratch out his eyes, a suitable punishment for the indignity I just suffered. The present dilemma was how to get past his glasses, as those monstrosities must weigh in at a good twenty pounds. My owners were negotiating the purchase of a large carrying vessel, a portable prison of sorts, made of beige plastic and bars. I am appalled that I am to be confined to this contraption as though I have committed some gruesome crime, A common criminal I am not.

The worst mistake I have ever made was as a kitten. I made the rather embarrassing faux pas of presenting my mistress with what I considered to be a prime specimen of a prairie dog. In my naive state of mind, I assumed that this was a suitable gift, a token of my appreciation for the heroic rescue of yours furry truly from the pet store. I would have preferred to have the ability to purchase costly gifts, however, one is limited when one possesses a serious lack of finances and opposable thumbs. Therefore, I felt a rodent to be a perfect substitute for the diamond earrings that I would much rather have given. That particular foray cost me a visit to Mr. Tweed, whom proceeded to stick me with little needles that he shoved under my skin, a torture technique that he called “shots”. Had I been able to speak, I would have confessed to taking the Lindbergh baby.

The day of our departure dawned sunny and pleasant, and I was rather disappointed that this lovely day was to be consumed with work instead of the pleasure that such a day demands. A large white van arrived while I was in the kitchen having my morning meal. I was attempting to delay the inevitable by taking my time and thoroughly devouring every last morsel, yet I was very aware of two male voices accompanied in the dining room by Julia. She was instructing them as to which items were to be placed into their vehicle. She sounded a bit frazzled, and I determined that she must be in need of my assistance. I decided to move into the living room upon finishing my meal. I assumed this would be the optimal post to supervise. I observed the men, large and beefy to the point of deformity, as I sauntered to my position. I should not by critical, as I am the stereotypical pudgy house pet. I noted that Roger was instructing the men to move his antique collection to the rented moving trailer that was attached to the rear of the family vehicle. Roger loves that collection more than life itself, and I should have predicted that he would rather carry it across the country on his back than to entrust them to these two cretins. I was in the best possible position to aid Julia in the supervision of these brutes, and I watched closely, so as to be sure that no mistakes were made. This was a delicate task, and I was pleasantly surprised to note that things were running smoothly. The children were lending a hand, Roger was helping the men, and Julia was finishing packing the remainder of the family’s belongings. We, Julia and I, had taken on the difficult task of aiding in the division of the possessions, to be sure that the proper things were being loaded into the proper vehicles. A rather strenuous activity, I assure you.

I began to marvel at the men’s tireless energy. I could not believe that they could do all this, without out so much as a cream break. I assume that I was astounded as I tire at anything more strenuous than chasing a fly. I do not understand, nor am I entirely sure I would want to, the human concepts of “work” and “jobs”. I simply cannot comprehend the exertion of that much effort when important, truly important, matters require attention. Naps, lounging, pouncing, why the feline mind boggles with the many dire errands we must complete for the sake of humanity.

I do believe that the only times in a human life when they truly understand what is important in this world is infancy and their golden years. It is during these two periods that they understand the importance of naps, meals, lounging, and in infancy, the pondering of imaginary insects. The meaning of the word “hurry” is lost on them, and I admire their ability to comprehend the many aspects that tend to plague the life of a feline. No, it is between these two periods that they lose sight of what truly matters. They are so busy rushing off somewhere that they have no idea of what they are missing.. Their lives are taken, nay, consumed with appointments, work, school, soccer practice, ballet, meetings, shopping, errands, bills, taxes, brownie meetings, cub scouts, school plays, PTA, lunch dates, dinner dates, goodness, their lives are spent just trying to survive the next fifteen minutes. Even meals are rushed now. Pre-packaged, time-saving products rule their diets. No one savors the flavor, if they cannot microwave it or prepare it in twenty minutes they would rather go hungry. This distresses me, rather, as I do believe that dining is not only one of the many pleasures in life, but an art form, to be studied, practiced and perfected.

As I am pondering this, milling over the complexity of this all-important issue, Julia approaches me with a dish. I was delighted to discover that it contained a rather large helping of my favorite meal. This strikes me as odd, as I have already dined this morning, however, my philosophy has always been waste not, want not, and what better time to put said philosophy into effect? I can say that this life practice is what accounts for my rather generous physique, coupled with the fact that I believe in maintaining the image of the plump family pet, so as to add an element of continuity to the lives of my humans. The flavor was a bit odd, yet not totally unpleasant, and I decided to continue with my meal, which was quite obviously a reward for my valuable supervision services.

Upon finishing, I thought it best that I resumed with my managerial duties, no doubt the family has come to chaos in my absence. I was relieved to see that nothing was in shambles, and I noted that most everything that was in need of my careful supervision was completed. I began to feel utterly exhausted, no doubt from the tireless effort that I was exerting in order to aid in the completion of this enormous task. I wondered if they really could finish the remainder without me. I assessed the progress and noted that most was complete. In point of fact, the final suitcases were being loaded into our vehicle, and I supposed the family could get on without me. A final check confirmed my suspicions, and I decided that a light nap would restore my strength. No doubt my services would be sorely needed later.

I awoke in a rather cold place on a hard surface. I felt groggy and my head hurt. I was struggling to comprehend the reason for this, as I felt like the kitty version of Rip van Winkle. I sat upon my haunches, despite the dizziness that resulted from this sudden movement. I saw a series of criss-crossed bars in front of me and beyond that, a window. It was at this moment that I realized that I was in the carrying vessel. I must have ingested a sedative, or as they say in the movies, someone slipped me a mickey! No doubt at the suggestion of Mr. Tweed! That odorous scrap of a human being. I was annoyed by this, as I would have entered the vessel freely, had someone had the foresight to ask me. I do realize, however, that my family is human enough not to have recognized that we felines are sensible creatures who respond beautifully to reason and logic, so I therefore forgive their momentary lapse of reason. I peered between the bars of my (hopefully) temporary prison to see out of the window. I was startled to see that the mountains that I have become so accustomed to have disappeared and in their stead was a vast land of nothingness. I was just beginning to wonder the reason for all of this when I overheard Roger say something about a “wichita”. What is that? I decided that I could do little more than wait and see in this case. I would have loved nothing more than to attempt to investigate, but one does tend to be limited in this capacity when one is thus confined. I thought I might attempt to amuse myself. The question was, what does one do in prison? I guess I could have attempted to exercise, as I have seen fictional prisoners do on television, but this required a most disagreeable exertion of effort on my part. I decided to content myself with a bath. I felt rather grimy after the affects of the drug wore off, and I thought a good cleansing might serve to clear my head. I turned, so as to clean along my spine more effectively, and noticed to my surprise and delight, that a good deal of edibles had been placed on the interior of my cell. I suppose that this was to appease me once I had discovered my state of confinement. I am constantly astounded by humans. They do not understand that we felines are reasonable creatures who do not hold grudges. We simply understand that humans are limited in the capacity of reason and logic, and therefore must be tolerated with vast amounts of patience.

The children were in the rear seat of the vehicle, closest to me. Christine was perusing some rag of a magazine that is geared towards teenage girls and their all-important, life-threatening concerns. These fine examples of in-depth, investigative journalism cover such issues that must plague even the president himself. Such as new fur styles and what shade to paint their claws for the season, you know the heart and soul of every young girl’s life. I am appalled by Christine’s choice of so called literature. The child is brilliant, dances like an angel, and yet here she is reading, or rather, devouring, this filth as opposed to nourishing her mind with Keats.

Toby, on the other paw, was listening to some racket on his headphones. This degrading example of monkeys banging on drums attempting to masquerade as music is positively appalling. I am deeply disturbed by the fact that Toby pays it any mind at all. This particular album (and I use the term loosely) was purchased by Julia, to soften the blow of the move. I overheard her telling Roger that she based her purchase solely on the fact that it had the ugliest album cover in the store. Toby, predictably, had loved it.

Roger was in the front, driving and fiddling with the radio, and I could hear him complaining to Julia about the length of the drive. “If I had known it was going to take so long, we would have given them everything and flown” His gruff voice rang throughout the car, signifying his displeasure. “Roge, you knew it was going to take this long, the movers said it was a three or four day drive.” Julia was reading one of her gardening magazines as she spoke, and her tone implied that she was bored with Roger’s complaints.

“Yes, I know, but three or four days do not seem like a long time until you are actually driving it. I mean, there are no landmarks out here. It doesn’t seem like we’re going anywhere.”

He located a suitable station that was playing that awful noise that humans like to call classic rock. Julia said, “I know, it does seem to stretch on forever, doesn’t it. But we’ll be in Wichita soon; we can stop there for the night. Lord knows, I’m hungry and the children can go swimming.” Aha, so this Wichita thing is a city. Well, that proves to be the light at the end of my tunnel. I would certainly be pleased to be liberated from my cell.

“Julia, are you sure you want to do that? I mean there is so much that we need to do, especially in a house of that size. It’s practically a mansion. Besides. I have to be in the office on Monday, ready to go, and we really can’t afford to waste any time.

What was he talking about? By my calculations, it was only Tuesday. As far as I could tell we had plenty of time.

“Nonsense, Roger, and you know it. We have the rest of the week.” Told you so. “You know full well that I can do everything once we get there and the furniture is moved in. Besides, the kids are tired, I’m tired and you won’t be ready to go Monday if your exhausted. Plus, I’m pretty sure that Bubbles will need to be let out soon.”

Finally, someone had remembered that I exist. And I had thought that they had forgotten about me.

“Alright, we’ll stop. I guess your right, but I’m not stopping tomorrow until I am about ready to pass out. I want to be sure that we are there when the movers arrive. God only knows how they will do things if we are not there. They’ll probably break something.” Roger had assented with his usual grace and decorum. He may bring home the bacon, but he is certainly aware of who puts it on his plate.

It was at this moment that I noticed that I had finally gotten over the after effects of the drug, and I thought it would be wise to remind my family of my presence with a soft “meow”. Christine put down her version of reading and swiveled around in her seat to pet and placate me until we arrived at our destination. The sky had begun to grow dark, the sunset unmarred by the presence of mountains, as had been the case in our former home. The unfortunate aspect was that I had to endure another hour of this restrained attention. And then suddenly, the lights of a city came into view, and I was beyond relief that I would soon be liberated from this prison.

I came to understand that Wichita is a metropolis, an incredibly large populace plunked down in the very center of the flattest land I had ever set my eyes upon. The sight truly astounded me and my little kitty jaw hit the floor of my cage in utter, speechless surprise. As we drove, I noted a rather large river running through the center of this city, and I overheard Julia telling the children that the city was built on the fork of two rivers, in accordance with a Native American belief that this would protect them from tornados.

Roger spent a great deal of time searching out a suitable place to bed his family down for the evening. At long last, we came upon a rather large building that he called a “hotel”. I had no idea what that meant until we were settled in. Apparently, these buildings are nothing more than a series of bedrooms, built for the sole purpose of housing traveling humans. Roger began to sift through a large book, attempting to locate a suitable establishment to supply the family’s supper. As I had already consumed all of the food that had been left in my cell, I was quite famished, and hoped that they would not forget that I may like a little something as well. The family bickered over what to eat, finally decided on pizza and placed their order. The children went downstairs to make use of the pool while they waited for dinner to arrive. I had no idea what a pool was, until I looked out of the window. Apparently, a “pool” is a large bathtub of sorts that humans swim about in. The whole notion seemed rather disagreeable to me, we felines are not known for being overly fond of water, and to be totally immersed in it seemed like a rather odd way to pass the time.

I made use of the little kitties’ box, and decided that I would allow myself the pleasure of laying on Julia’s lap for affection. The meal arrived soon, and Roger went down to fetch the children. Upon their return, I noted a rather disagreeable odor clinging to their skin and hair, and deduced that this “pool” must be filled with stagnant water. And this is what humans do to pass the time. I would rather chase a ball of yarn! I lay on the floor, I am not permitted near the family whilst they are dining, and patiently waited for any tasty scrap that may make it’s way down to me. The family was discussing the remainder of our journey, planning in advance for the next day’s length of the commute. Roger said he would like to pass through a “Tennessee” so as to see a “Graceland”. The children groaned and rolled their eyes. From this reaction, I realized that his desire stemmed from his obsession with a man named Elvis. I did not particularly care what the family did, as I had already come to the conclusion that I was to be confined to that thing regardless of where they went.

When they had finished their meal, the family decided that it would be relaxing to use a “hot tub”. I drew the conclusion that this was a smaller “pool” filled with heated stagnant water. I marvel at humans who use such methods to relax. They have obviously yet to discover the therapeutic qualities of the belly-scratch. After they departed, I was left to my own devices. I thought it wise to retire to the open carrying vessel, so as to avoid having to ingest another sedative. To pass the time before blissfully drifting to sleep, I let my mind wonder. What awaited us at the end of our journey? What would our new home be like? My real concern was, what is the rodent population? I did miss the sport of home, and I did hope that our journey’s end could offer just as many pleasant distractions. I fell asleep pondering these important questions.

Morning came far to soon to suit my taste. Bright and early, Roger began to hustle the family to “get a move on”. I yawned and looked about me, pleased to note that someone had already closed the door to my cell. I was not pleased with the prospect of spending another day in solitary confinement.

The family was bustling about the room, Showers were taken, teeth brushed, possessions packed. The flurry of activity impressed me, as I myself was not in such a hurry to say goodbye to sleep. In the midst of it all, Julia remembered I might want to be fed, and gave me my breakfast. I must say that the service was well worth a tip, but alas, I had left my wallet in my other pants. Or I would have if I had pants. Finally, we were herded out to the vehicle and continued on our way.

The family breakfast was of the fast-food variety, purchased at a drive thru window. I was allowed to dispose of the uneaten scraps, and I was glad that I was allowed to continue my duties, even in this limited capacity. We had already left the city limits by the time the sun was fully up. I was not agreeable to having been awoken so early in the day. I did hope that this did not become a habit.

Roger was still insisting that we go through Tennessee, however, the children responded in the same fashion as the night before, and the subject was quickly dropped.

The land passing by my window was even more uneventful than the day before, and I was growing quite tired with the monotony of it all. Roger persisted in his plan to continue until he was ready to stop, and Julia agreed. She had managed to dissuade him yesterday, and she know when to hold and when to fold.

“This way, we only have one more day until we reach Salem”

Roger was still trying to convince her of his brilliance, I suppose because she did not seem entirely convinced.

I do not know what a “Salem” is, but I do hope it is something pleasant. I tire of the cage so, as one is limited in the capacity of entertainment when one is thus confined. The children were bickering again, and this I was quickly tiring of as well. Roger’ complaints and valiant plans to keep us moving were scraping upon every raw nerve I possessed. Most of all, I was tiring of Julia’s desperate efforts to keep the peace.

I had discovered, to my indignation and rage, that the family meant to keep me completely confined. I was not to be released, even in the interior of the vehicle. This distresses me, as I had hoped that I could aid in the navigation process. We felines have the best sense of direction of all creatures, and I had hoped to aid in this process to ensure that we did not lose our way.

Seeing as I was not to be liberated anytime soon, I decided to entertain myself. I suppose that I could have pondered the meaning of life, however, I had pondered this quandary to the point of nervosa, always coming to the same conclusion. That being that we felines are the only creatures with enough foresight to understand this concept. I could have plotted my escape, but any plan I could deduce required the use of opposable thumbs. As a result, that was out of the question. I had long ago grown tired of the children’s attempts to amuse me, and they were now engrossed in their activities from the previous day. As all other options had failed me, I decided that the best method of distraction was sleep. I had been aroused rather early, and everyone knows that felines do not function well on too little sleep. I therefore decided that a nap was well in order. Perhaps when I awake, I can think of something better.

When I finally did, awake that is, I noted immediately the sky was dark and filled with stars. I had no idea of how long I slept, and for one brief moment, I assumed that I had again been slipped a drug. As my head was not reeling, I quickly discounted that notion.

I heard low voices, a note of urgency unfolded within them. I determined that it could only be Julia and Roger, as the children were asleep in the rear seat of the vehicle. They did look deceptively innocent in their state of slumber, and in this moment I could see why anyone would actually want children, they looked so sweet and endearing.

Roger was speaking to Julia in so low a tone that I actually had to turn my head and perk my ears to hear him. No doubt it was something important that I needed to know about, and I was going to have to resort to eavesdropping, yet again, to gain my information. Julia and Roger were speaking hurriedly, their voices sounded pleased and yet uncertain. Clearly, the matter was of the utmost importance, and it needed to be resolved quickly.

“Julia, I know this is a great thing, and I know the kids will be pleased too, but let’s get serious for just a minute and really think about this. I mean that many new additions to the house is going to get really rough, financially speaking. Are you sure this is as good as it seems?”

But what was he talking about? New additions? I thought Julia was only having one baby.

“Look, I know that this seems sudden,” But he did not allow her to finish.

“Seems sudden? Julia, we are more than half-way there. It is sudden, very sudden, here we are in the middle of nowhere, and we get a call on the cell telling us that we have to take in two more cats and four horses. For the love of reason, they knew this was part of the deal before we bought the place, and they decide to call us with this little ‘development’ when we are already on our way.”

He had almost forgotten himself, and was about to raise his voice when Julia gave him a hard “Shhhhhhhh!”

“I know that it does not seem right, and I know that it seems like a lot, but Roger, would you just listen for a change? Mrs. Mahoney said that they are used to grazing, so that means the horses are taken care of. There are plenty of grounds, so that also means that they will not be in the way. As for the cats, come on, two more is not that big a deal. The price has not gone up on account of this, and I really don’t see why you are being so stubborn.” She was upset now, I suspect on account of Roger having the rather nasty habit of blowing everything out of proportion.

“Look, I know this seems all well and good, but let’s get back to reality for a split second, shall we? Those horses have to cost a lot for shoeing and health care, and Bubbles is a glutton as it is. If those two cats are anything like that, we’ll be broke inside of a year.” Well, I never! I am not a glutton, I just believe in the relaxing properties of a good meal is all. A philosophy you should consider giving a try, big boy!

“Roger, that is nothing but a load of nonsense and you know it. The health expenses for the horses may be on the pricey side, but they won’t need it more than once a year. And Bubbles may be something of a glutton, but you make it sound as though you have caught him red-handed rummaging through the fridge. Besides, this may be a great opportunity for him to shed a few pounds.” And she was supposed to be on my side. “Two more won’t be much of a problem. It won’t be as terrible as you make it sound.”

“Well maybe, all I’m saying is that it is going to take quite a bit of readjustment. By the way, did Mrs. Mahoney say what the horses were?”Roger was giving way, and I just knew that the worst was yet to come. Julia paused and sighed, throwing out the words as though they were a ticking time bomb.

“A Shetland pony and three Clydesdales.” She waited, as did I for the inevitable explosion. To our mutual surprise, it never came. Roger just shook his head and sighed.

“Well, I suppose that we can go along with this insanity, at least until they start to be a problem. If that happens, I’m sorry hon, but they’ll have to go.”

“Roger, I think everything will be okay. But I agree, if they start to become a burden, we will have to find different homes for them.” Julia was obviously pleased with herself. After all, why should she not be? Roger had agreed, and with no blood shed and no teeth pulled. But I knew. I knew the real reason that he had assented so gracefully. Christine had been hinting for some time that she had wanted to learn to ride horseback. Her relationship with her father had been rather strained as of late. I believe that Roger had assumed that this would cure the pained feelings that he assumed he was causing with his daughter. I do not think that he was aware that at Christine’s age, all children become slightly estranged from their parents. I do not know the reason for this, nor would I ever pretend to, however, I do believe that in time she will come around and appreciate her parents for what they are.

I am not pleased with the prospect of having to share my life with additional felines. I could not comprehend that the family was apparently not only going to accept these intruders, but it seemed as though they were welcoming the strangers, embracing them if you will. I could not understand their enthusiasm, at least when it came to the felines. They had not even been properly introduced, let alone get acquainted. Having been the only pet of the family for several years now, I have become a singular creature, adopting this trait into my very nature. I suppose that I should have been thinking of how to make the best of a bad situation, however, in hindsight, all I could do was nurse my wounded pride. I was appalled that I was to be replaced, as though they could just toss me aside like so much litter. My indignation knew no bounds, and I could not help but feel the stab of pain to my heart at the very thought that I was not appreciated as I should be. I could not believe that they were going to sweep me under the rug. I was a good and loyal pet. I completed my duties with little complaint, why, I did not even sharpen my claws on the furniture. I kept the household together, often was I called upon to console the children when the parents could not reach them. Many was the time have I been there to aid Julia through the mood swings that accompany her condition and come without warning. I had no idea when we left our home that this situation was going to come into play. Why, if I had, I would not have stayed, so as to make room for the new pets. Perhaps they had realized this, and chose not to inform me on this matter as they have done countless times before. I have been a loyal servant to this family for seven years, I feel as though I have almost become a member. And now I am to be replaced.

I mulled over these thoughts for what seemed like hours. I began to see lights, evidence of a city nearby. What do I care for another night in a hotel room, if I am to be replaced by my family. This will be the last days that I will ever be their cherished feline. The very idea of new pets caused a great gray cloud of depression to descend upon me like a heavy fog. I imagine that this is what the sky must feel like before the onset of a great storm. First, I lose the home that I adored, and now I am to lose my family. If I am to be abandoned, if I am to be thrown to the four winds, than I shall play along for now. At least I shall have the memories of these last days to comfort me.

My ears perked, for I suddenly lighted upon an idea that could save me from this lunacy. I could stop this injustice. I could prevent my own demise. I would maintain my current bond with my family, and strengthen it if possible. When they see me for the model pet that I am, so to speak, they will not be so quick to replace me with new ones. They will not want to push me aside. I vowed at that moment to be the perfect traveling companion. I would not complain. I would not fuss in the least. If I can make them believe that I am the perfect pet, perhaps I do not have to worry about these new creatures that were trying to weasel their way into my family’s hearts. By Jove, I shall do it! I will right this wrong by any means that my crafty feline brain can devise. I will persist. I will triumph. I fell to sleep with a rather smug, self-satisfied grin on my cute, furry little kitty face.